What would Bilbo Baggins do?

Is that a thing? Can I get it carved on a bracelet?

I stare at the door some more. ‘Light hearted’. Maybe young at heart? But why would that matter? And how would it open the door? Maybe someone without any worries. That could be better. Like you should have faith, not doubt when you enter. But in that case I’m completely screwed cause I worry about all kinds of things.

Tyrion was right. I don’t like riddles.

I feel a disturbance next to me and Angel is at my side again. She is hovering this time. Not with wings out, more like she forgot that people don’t just float in the air.

“When you channeled the darkness how did it feel?”

I grimace, not wanting to think back to that event.

“There’s no running from evil. It must be confronted,” she insists.

I lick my lips. “Cold. Haunting. Powerful.”

Angel nods. “Does that seem like ‘light’ to you?”

Now the light bulb – or should I say torch? – goes off in my head. “It’s referring to the magic system. No dark magi are allowed to enter. Only those who are in the light.”

Angel smiles. “And by what you did in the forest, when facing the dryad. Does that not show you are part of the light?”

“But the door didn’t open for me,” I say, puzzled.

“I told you it’s not a matter of strength.”

I frown. “You’re being cryptic again, Angel.”

Her eyes twinkle. “It says ‘light hearted’, Ethan.”

And then she’s gone. Just like that – no flash, no smoke – there one moment, gone the next.

Splendid.

I stare at the door for a moment longer and then close my eyes. ‘Light hearted’. I’m a little afraid of what I’ll find inside me, of that darkness that I know remains within, but I trust Angel and I need to do something to get in this door.

I quiet my body and search within. I find the darkness and want to run, to end this magical introspection, but force myself to persist - to bounce along the edges of the cold. And on that edge I find some heat. Not a ‘fires of hell’ sort of heat but something life giving like the sun.

Slowly, focusing on the flame I raise my hand to the door. There is a flash, just a small one but instead of dark ribbons a brightness comes out of my hand. I don’t even understand what happened, but the door seems to because it starts curling back, like the roots of a tree tucking themselves away.

*Light Magic activated*

A message from the system. Good old Tinny chiming in with an obvious comment.

*No, that’s not how this works.*

*I don’t know what that means.*

I sigh.

*Then why did you ask me?*

Stupid system. Boring conversation anyway.

The elves are shouting something to me and it’s possible I should pause to explain this to them, and maybe I would have if I hadn’t spend so much time internal monologuing with a foreign machine, but I’ve already stepped through the doors at this point, and they quickly close behind me.

----------------------------------------

The demon stares and I blink. She’s calm and collected, not smirking or jesting as usual.

“What do you want?” I ask suspiciously.

She says nothing.

I step forward. “Hello?”

She continues to stare and I realize she’s looking past me, like I’m not even here. I move to her side and turn slowly, following her gaze to Gwen and Lillian.

I’m back in the Tower of Magi. Again.

The human tower of course, before it was destroyed. Not to be confused with the elven tower I just entered, or I think I did. This jumping around is getting confusing.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

“What have you done, Lillian?” A woman asks, her voice trembling.

Lillian seems to get that question a lot.

There’s a crowd now: a whole collection of female magi who wear faces of shock, horror, anger, and fear. There are also male clerics; the ones the demon called ‘guardians’. They are supposed to ‘guard’ the magi against the influence of the dark one. They stand with us in a grand chamber at the top of the tower. And they are scowling.

The sorceress steps forward. “Sisters, I have found the onyx stone. You wouldn’t believe me before, but here it is. The directress lied to us. She just wanted the power for herself, but I have rescued it for us.”

“You are the liar,” a cleric says curtly. “A liar or a fool. The onyx is a tool of the dark one and cannot be used except by one in his service.”

The sorceress raises an eyebrow. “Then why did the directress have it?”

“She was guarding it,” the cleric says coldly. “So that this would never happen.”

“Ha!” Lillian’s eyes blaze with a purple fire. “So you admit that you knew of it as well, guardian.”

She turns back to the crowd. “You see my sisters. The guardians knew. The directress knew. It’s only us they did not tell. Only us they sought to control.”

The women murmur and the demon smiles. She looks more sinister somehow in the white dress. Like the modest attire is just a cover, not for her body, but for her soul.

Actually, I don’t think demons have souls, but I’m no theologian, so whatever.

“So you killed her?” The guardian shouts above the hubbub. “For this slight of not informing the all-important Lillian you turned the stone against her and proved her right for not trusting you to begin with.”

“She attacked me!” Lillian is so mad she is shaking. Her staff is quivering in her hand, the onyx affixed atop of it.

“It’s true,” Gwen adds quietly, far more subdued. Everyone looks at her. Gwen only stares at the floor. Her blond hair can’t completely shield her contorted face.

So much pain.

“She was going to lock us away,” Gwen continues. “Encase us in crystal.”

“As she should have,” the cleric retorts strongly. “And as we will. Professor Yahn, you are the second here. Do your duty.”

An older woman looks at the cleric and then at Lillian. She seems less confident and less hostile than the directress. With perhaps even a bit of fear in her eyes. “Perhaps, Guardian Towle, we should hold a forum to discuss this situation before any further action is taken.”

“I agree, professor,” chimes in a younger student. She looks at Lillian with awe and wonder, like a child seeing candy for the first time.

The old man scowls at the student. “Your opinion isn’t relevant, Chelee.” He turns back to Yahn. “Please have someone take the students downstairs., Yahn. They shouldn’t be here for this.”

“No,” Lillina interjects. “Let them stay.”

The old man turns back, his face red. “Are you giving orders to me?”

It is crazy by temple standards. The magi typically quivered before an irate guardian. Even the directress would defer to their will. We’re far beyond temple standards now though. I’m not sure the guardian realizes that…

“I am,” the sorceress says defiantly. “If you knew of the onyx then you’re part of the problem.” she drops her voice, sounding sinister. “How deep does the plot go, guardian? Does the Prefect know?” She pauses. “Does the king?”

The guardian shakes, his robes flowing about him like he’s some kind college president at senior graduation. But there’s nothing comical about those eyes. Only…

Hate?

The demon claps her hands with glee and even in my ghostly state it makes me shudder.

The cleric steps toward Lillian. “By the power of the Temple...”

“Wait!” calls the professor.

He steps again. “Servants of the Maker.”

“Stay away from me!” Shouts Lillian.

“I hereby renounce you for all eternity and forever brand you -”

Ribbons shoot from out from the onyx. The cleric screams in pain. The demon cackles with joy.

----------------------------------------

The interior of the elven temple is dark. So dark I cannot see. But I know that I am back, back in my own time, with my own struggles. I feel along the wall feeling for torches, but find none. Then it hits me.

There’s no light because the mages made their own.

It’s a crazy idea yet an obvious one. If you always have a torch within you what needs is there for one on the wall?

I take a deep breath and search within again. I find my spark more easily this time, and steer clear of the lingering darkness. Once more I extend my hand, and a soft rey shoots out. It’s thin, little more than a child’s flashlight, but it’s enough. I can see.

I just spin for a while. Turning round and round in the room I move my light beam from floor to wall to ceiling just taking it all in. It looks like an atrium at a luxury hotel: ornate paintings, a high ceiling, luxurious furniture. It’s all dirtied though, or more like encrusted really. A thin film glosses all of it, like the sap from the bark has just covered all the elven workmanship..

Once again, nature is taking it back.

I start walking and quickly see the stairwell; one giant corkscrew winding up and up and up for as high as my eyes can see.

Well, better get started.

My boots are like thunder on the wood and the timber groans and whines under my feet. For the first time I consider if this is actually just a stupid idea. What if the wood is so old it’s unsafe? What if a step gives way and I fall? That would be a hell of a way to die.

My heart is beating faster and I stop to gather myself. One breath. Two. I think about how old the forest is, how strong the wood must be, and how the staircase was protected from the elements by thick walls and roof of the tower.

Right, here we go again.

I reach the first platform. It’s the first stop my stairway to heaven, and I step onto it. There is a door and it recoils as I shine my light upon it. Before me is a hallway and I lift a foot towards it.

Wait.

I pause again and remember that I have no idea where I’m going. I came here to get access to light magi, which I seem to have done before even entering. But I’m also supposed to talk to some ghost or whatever. I should be able to speak to the elven magi who used to live here. But I have no idea how to do that or where to go.

Hmmm.

Then I get an idea. I think back to the vision.

The ceremonial chambers were at the top of the human tower. If I’m to find some ancient hero it’s more likely to be there.

I step onto the stairwell and continue my journey up the elven ladder.